


just an evening or a thing that would last

by mothmanfucker666



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series), Watcher Entertainment RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Late 00s, Anal Fingering, First Time Blow Jobs, Frat Boy Ryan Bergara, Gender Non-Conforming Shane Madej, M/M, No Homo Ryan Bergara, Power Imbalance, Professor Shane Madej, Prostate Massage, Semi-Public Sex, Teacher-Student Relationship, Virginity Kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:33:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25016281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mothmanfucker666/pseuds/mothmanfucker666
Summary: "you're failing my class, bergara," professor madej says bluntly, and ryan wrings his hands nervously at the uncharacteristically stern expression on madej's face. "how do you intend to make it up to me?"and ryan knows he's dreaming now, because he has no control over himself ─ really! ─ when he steps around madej's desk and slides onto the neatly organized surface. "i'm sure we'll come up with something, professor," he says, sounding for all the world like the dumbest kind of porno.
Relationships: Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej
Comments: 31
Kudos: 216





	1. there's more to life than books, you know

**Author's Note:**

> thx to raine for encouraging my horrible whims 🖤
> 
> i'll try to wrap this up in like... five?? short chapters but not even satan knows where i'm going with this lmao.
> 
> vaguely proofread. title from tear you apart by she wants revenge. chapter title from handsome devil by the smiths. au playlist [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4bvR6wtmb34A33JxhHLYTC?si=cUn5EcYMTsii_B-fMyDYXA).
> 
> and a disclaimer: for the love of god, don't fuck your teachers.

It's not Ryan's fault, really.

Okay, so Ryan might pay a little more attention to Professor Madej than he does to most of his other professors. But can anyone really blame him? Madej is funny and interesting, and somehow manages to make his History of Film class almost _fun_ to attend. Ryan can appreciate the guy's sense of humor, is all. His thoughts are perfectly normal and heterosexual, thank you very much, until.

"Do you think Professor Madej is gay?" Curly asks one day as they're walking out of the lecture hall, apropos of nothing. Ryan glances over, blinking at him. Curly just grins and shrugs unrepentantly. "He wears a lot of florals. And he paints his nails."

"Does he?" Ryan asks absently. (He already knows. They were red last week. Pink, today.) "I dunno, man. You'd know better than me."

Curly laughs. "Think he'd let me earn a little extra credit the old-fashioned way?"

Ryan raises an eyebrow. "By _studying?_ " he asks, which just prompts Curly to laugh again. It's a short exchange, altogether. Nothing all that memorable. Certainly nothing to linger on for too long.

Except that's exactly what happens.

─

"You're failing my class, Bergara," Professor Madej says bluntly, and Ryan wrings his hands nervously at the uncharacteristically stern expression on Madej's face. "How do you intend to make it up to me?"

And Ryan knows he's dreaming now, because he has no control over himself ─ really! ─ when he steps around Madej's desk and slides onto the neatly organized surface. "I'm sure we'll come up with something, Professor," he says, sounding for all the world like the dumbest kind of porno. Part of Ryan is panicking, but he's not quite aware enough to wake himself up from the dream. "I really need the credits."

Dream-Ryan (who is _not_ Ryan, alright) lets his legs fall open, and he scoots forward a little so his basketball shorts bunch up and expose the paler flesh of his mid-thighs. Madej's gaze catches on the newly-bared skin, and when he looks up at Ryan, it's with an unreadable expression. Madej's nails are painted yellow in this dream, Ryan notices for some reason, and he watches as Madej slides a long-fingered hand up Ryan's thigh. Madej stands, towering over Ryan in the way Ryan can never help but notice every time they're near each other in real life. His free hand cups Ryan's chin.

_You spin my head right 'round, right 'round, when you─_

Ryan blinks awake and rolls over to glare at his phone. He slaps around on his nightstand until he finds it, scrambling to shut off his stupid alarm. He's hard, he notes after a moment of blinking sleepily at the wall, trying to wake himself up. And that's ─ that's not something he's ready to deal with right now. Maybe not ever.

Probably not ever.

Ryan sighs and drags a hand over his face, rolling onto his back. He's just... Gonna take a shower, jerk off thinking about Rihanna or something, and by the time he's done, he's sure he'll have forgotten all about Professor Madej.

─

Jerking off _to_ Professor Madej was not exactly the plan, Ryan thinks to himself about ten minutes later, blinking the stars out of his eyes in the shower after he comes.

─

Because the universe apparently hates Ryan, Madej is wearing yellow nail polish when Ryan has his class again three days later. His shirt is navy blue with a yellow sunflower print.

And because Ryan is apparently an idiot, he stops dead in his tracks right in front of Madej's desk to stare at his hands.

"... Morning, Bergara," Madej says cautiously when he looks up and sees Ryan gaping at him like an idiot. "Did you need something?"

Ryan snaps his mouth shut, immediately feeling his cheeks flood with heat. "No, sorry, I just, uh. You." He clears his throat, looking away. He's one of the first people in the lecture hall; he can't rush away to sit with Curly and hope Madej forgets he was ever there. "Yellow's my favorite color. It, uh. Looks good on you." Ryan forces an awkward grin.

Madej's eyebrows raise, confused and almost concerned. But then he smiles, almost hesitantly, and Ryan's heart does something funny in his chest. "Oh. Thanks, Bergara," he says, something in his tone just the slightest bit softer than usual. Ryan thinks his face looks a little flushed. He panics.

"No problem, bro," Ryan replies, scratching at the back of his neck. "I mean, uh. No homo. Oh, there's Curly! Later, Professor." Ryan excuses himself quickly, leaving an amused and still rather confused Madej in his wake.

─

It's not a thing, Ryan keeps telling himself, but he finds himself stopping to chat with Professor Madej more and more frequently with flimsier and flimsier excuses. He finds himself watching Madej's hands, paying closer attention to his facial expressions and clothes than his lessons ─ not that he lets his grades slip, though, because the thought of disappointing Madej doesn't even bear considering.

It's been nearly a month of this when Ryan finally decides that maybe he's just a little ─ bicurious, or something. College is a time for experimentation, right? Maybe he just needs to meet a dude, kiss or something, and remind himself that he likes _girls_. Problem solved.

That night, he drives nearly an hour away to a gay club that none of his friends ever go to. He can't chance running into someone he knows here. He's just here for a quick little experiment, and then he's going to go home and jerk off to straight porn instead of cheesy gay clips set in shitty classrooms, and everything will be fine and normal.

It takes a shot and three drinks before Ryan is relaxed enough to even think about doing something other than sitting at the bar slamming Jack and Cokes. The music isn't terrible, mostly just club remixes of current top 40 hits mixed with some older pop, Ryan notices vaguely.

One shot later, he finds himself heading for the dance floor, where he dances alone for a few minutes before someone approaches him. The guy is polite, doesn't grab at Ryan, so he lets himself shift closer, thrills at the touch of the other's hands on his hips after a minute or so. But he's ─ he's not ─ he's not tall enough, his eyes are blue, his hair is red, he's not...

He's not Professor Madej.

Ryan excuses himself to head back to the bar, already starting to panic again. What the hell is so special about Madej, anyway? It's not as if Ryan has a _crush_ on the dude. He doesn't like men. He's just bicurious. He's never liked a man before; he'd _know_ if he liked dudes, right? Right. Ryan just─

Ryan stops dead in his tracks, thoughts screeching to a halt, because one Professor Shane Madej is currently seated at the bar sipping a margarita.


	2. i'd let you had i known it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from say so by doja cat. vaguely proofread, as usual.

Madej's nails glow pink under the blacklight, as do the letters on his black crop top that read ─ Jesus Christ ─ _PRETTY BOY_ in pink block letters. He's wearing the clear-framed glasses that have shown up in Ryan's dreams way too many times, and his hair is loose around his face rather than slicked back or tied up. Ryan must stand there staring for too long, because Madej spots him.

Surprise flits across Madej's features, but then he gives a wry little smile and lifts one hand in a wave. Ryan hesitates, but ultimately decides to draw closer. He slides into the stool beside Madej's at the bar and orders a blowjob shot on impulse. Neither of them speaks as the shot is delivered, and Ryan takes it the traditional way ─ throwing it back without using his hands. It's something he's done plenty of times before, but the way he just barely hears Madej's sharp inhale at the display beside him nearly makes him choke on the bittersweet liquid.

"You're a long way from campus, Mr. Bergara," Madej says eventually, once Ryan has successfully swallowed the shot. Ryan turns in his seat to face him, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips.

"I'm not gay," is the first thing out of Ryan's mouth, because of course it is.

"Okay..." Madej arches an eyebrow, then looks pointedly around the room. "Are you lost, then?" he teases.

Ryan shrugs. He should be freaking out, probably, but for some reason, that part of his brain seems to be offline at the moment. "Confused," he supplies after a moment.

"Confused," Madej echoes, and Ryan can practically hear the eye roll his professor is trying to suppress. That's fair, probably. "Why not be confused closer to home, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I didn't wanna run into anyone I know," Ryan replies, resting his elbow on the bar and his cheek in his hand. "Obviously failed at that part."

"I won't tell if you don't," Madej replies, taking a sip of his margarita. There's no innuendo to read into it, but Ryan feels a rush of arousal at the words, anyway. _God damn it._ "I come here because it's _usually_ far enough away from the school that I won't run into any of my students."

Ryan smiles sheepishly. "Your secret's safe with me," he says. And then, because apparently he hates himself, he adds, "Maybe this was fate."

Madej raises his eyebrows, eyeing Ryan over the rim of his glass. His cheeks are flushed, Ryan notices suddenly, and he seems to be swaying just a little bit where he stands. At least they seem to be on even ground where intoxication is concerned. "How so?" Madej asks. Ryan wonders if the way Madej leans a little bit closer to him is intentional.

"I mean..." Ryan falters. He waves the bartender over and orders another drink, stalling. But finally, he shrugs, looking down rather than directly at Madej. But that doesn't help, either, given all the exposed skin between Madej's chest and the waistline of his jeans. "I thought I was straight. Before this semester."

The words take a few seconds to sink in, and the hesitancy still present in Madej's face slowly fades into... Something else. Surprise, maybe, accompanied by something else Ryan is afraid to label, lest he be horribly wrong.

"What changed?" Madej asks carefully after a long moment, tipping his glass back and draining it. Ryan doesn't bother trying to hide the way his eyes follow the motion of Madej's throat as he swallows.

"Well..." Ryan takes his new drink from the bartender with a murmured thanks, and when he looks back to Madej, he's almost startled to find the older man's gaze heavy upon his face. Ryan meets his eyes, suddenly emboldened, and continues: "I guess I have a pretty hot professor this year, Professor Madej."

Ryan knows the music must be too loud for it to be true, but he could _swear_ he hears Madej's breath hitch in response. He watches, entranced, as Madej licks his lips and leans in a little closer. This time, there's no doubt in Ryan's mind as to whether the motion was intentional.

"We're not in class. You can call me Shane," Madej ─ or rather, Shane ─ says. He sets aside his empty glass and allows his hand ─ big, with spindly fingers and neat pink nailpolish ─ to rest scant centimeters away from Ryan's on the bartop. "Anyone I'd know?"

Ryan inches his pinkie outward until it brushes against Shane's. Their eyes lock again, and a crooked smile tugs at Ryan's lips. "Intimately, I'd guess," Ryan replies, barely loud enough to be heard over the pulsing music. They're only inches apart, now, and Ryan is still distantly shocked at just how well he's handling this. The freakout will come later, probably, but hopefully not until after he can get on his knees for Shane, because ─ because Ryan is suddenly realizing he really, _really_ wants to.

"You know this is a terrible idea, right?" Shane asks softly, inching his hand a little closer so it's finally fully on top of Ryan's.

Ryan turns his hand over so he can lace their fingers together, emboldened. "Oh, yeah. Big time. No way this ends well," he agrees absently. He's distracted by the way Shane uses his tongue to wet his lips.

"Let's dance," Shane says suddenly, and Ryan almost startles at the way the suggestion easily shatters his reverie. Shane gets to his feet, using their linked hands to drag Ryan up with him. Ryan only stumbles a little as he lets Shane lead him back out to the dancefloor. The song is something he recognizes instantly, some weird remix of Lovegame by Lady Gaga, and bizarrely, it almost makes him laugh.

Shane wastes no time in pulling Ryan closer, hands settling on the shorter man's shoulders right off the bat. Instinctively, Ryan settles his own hands on Shane's hips. He'd nearly forgotten about the shirt Shane was wearing, and the feeling of soft, warm skin under his hands instead of fabric draws a sharp breath from Ryan's lips. He gets a knee between Shane's thighs, and the two press close from chest to hip as they dance. Shane's hands slide up into Ryan's hair, running through the soft locks and scratching gently against his scalp.

"Still sure you're not into guys, Bergara?" Shane asks, lips close to Ryan's ear.

Ryan shivers at the feel of Shane's breath on his skin. "Not even a little bit sure," he replies with a shaky laugh, and Shane laughs, too, sounding almost fond.

"Won't know unless you give it a try, I guess," Shane says, pulling back just enough to meet Ryan's eyes. "You can kiss me, if you want. But, like, we ─ we seriously can't tell anyone."

Ryan's eyes must be as wide as dinner plates, he thinks vaguely. He nods eagerly, already raising up onto his tiptoes to bring himself to Shane's level. "I won't tell. I promise," Ryan insists, and Shane eyes him for a moment.

"I really _don't_ do this. I've never ─ not with a student ─" Shane begins, and Ryan gently rests a finger against Shane's lips to silence him.

" _Please,_ " Ryan breathes, and that's all it takes before Shane is pushing Ryan's hand out of the way and finally pressing their lips together.

It's not all that different from kissing a girl, to be honest. Shane is very clean-shaven, and his lips are soft, tasting of the margarita he'd been sipping and something like honey. Ryan pushes his fingers through Shane's hair and tries to remember how to breathe, feeling more turned on than he thinks he ever has in his life, which is ─ a lot to think about. So he does what he does best and ignores it, of course.

"God, you're eager," Shane says as he pulls back, tracing his thumb wonderingly over Ryan's lower lip. "We're about to break, like, ten different public indecency laws."

"So take me home with you, then," Ryan says before he can overthink it, and Shane lets out a sort of broken groan that goes straight to Ryan's dick.

"I would love to. God, believe me, I really would. But I ─ I don't know if that's a good idea." Ryan starts to pull away, embarrassed, but Shane catches his wrist gently. "Hang on, hang on! I only mean ─ because we're both pretty drunk. And consent is important. Y'know?"

Ryan eyes Shane warily for a moment, then drags a hand over his face and sighs. "But I want to," he pouts, and Shane laughs quietly, drawing him into another kiss. This one is less heated, sweeter. It makes Ryan's stomach do a flip.

"I'll give you my number. We can talk about it. Or not. It's entirely up to you," Shane promises, smoothing Ryan's hair back from his face. "Okay?"

They make their way back over to the bar together, and Shane puts his number into Ryan's phone. Ryan sneaks a picture of Shane when he turns back to the bartender for a moment and sets it as his contact image. His long body is bent over, partially draped over the counter, and his bare midriff is more in frame than the rest of Shane's face. It's not a photo anyone would recognize as their professor unless they were looking very closely.

Ryan texts him several winky faces, because he is approximately fourteen years old.

They make out against the bar for a few more minutes, and then Shane hails himself an Uber. Ryan walks him out, and they make out _again_ outside the club for a few minutes while they wait for Shane's Uber to arrive.

It's great, but Ryan sort of feels like his dick is going to fall off if he doesn't get off soon.

Shane leaves him with one last kiss and a promise to text when he gets home, and Ryan reluctantly calls for an Uber of his own.

A text comes from Shane right around the same time Ryan is finally locking himself in his room, ready to jerk off and go to sleep so he can delay the inevitable panic a little longer.

**[From: Shane] Hope you got home safely. Heres a little something as thanks for your patience. <3**

Attached to the text is what Ryan quickly decides is the best picture he's ever seen in his entire life. A quiet moan is torn from his lips, and he drops a hand to squeeze at his cock through the fabric of his jeans. The image is of Shane, of course, presumably in bed; he's still wearing most of his clothing, but his belt and jeans are undone and pushed down just far enough to show what's underneath. He's wearing pink silk ─ or perhaps satin? Ryan doesn't know or care what the difference is ─ panties, and the hard outline of the head of his cock is clear. He's big, though Ryan could have guessed that based on the size of the rest of him, and there's a damp patch right near where the tip of Shane's cock strains against the fabric.

Ryan stares at the photo for God knows how long, and while he's still staring, a second text comes through.

**[From: Shane] Goodnight, Ryan.**


	3. if you want it, come and get it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks so much for all the nice comments, y'all! they mean a lot!!! 🥺
> 
> by the way, if anyone wants to chat, i'm [mothmanfucker666](https://mothmanfucker666.tumblr.com/) on tumblr & [mothmanfckr666](https://twitter.com/mothmanfckr666) on twitter ✌️
> 
> chapter title from sex for homework by mindless self indulgence, which i 100000% recommend listening to. i've been listening to it nonstop for hours. it's not on spotify and i'll be mad about it forever.

They don't talk for a week.

Ryan doesn't know what to _say_. His world feels like it's crashing down around his ears, and there's nobody he can talk to about any of it. He'd promised Shane he wasn't going to tell anybody, and he isn't about to break his promise just because he's feeling a little shell shocked by the realization that maybe he's not quite as heterosexual as he's always proclaimed himself to be.

So Ryan throws himself fully into working out and his classes, and wonders why Shane doesn't text first. He's probably embarrassed, Ryan thinks. Probably hoping Ryan will never speak to him again. Maybe he's hoping Ryan will drop his class. Maybe he's hoping Ryan will transfer schools.

Maybe Ryan should just suck it up and ask him.

(He doesn't.)

─

Ryan skips Shane's class when he has it next a few days later; he assumes Shane doesn't want to see him, anyway. Instead, he locks himself in his room with a bowl of popcorn and watches _But I'm A Cheerleader_ , ignoring his phone entirely until the movie is over. When he finally checks it, he has three missed texts: one from Curly, and two from Shane. Ryan's stomach flips when he sees the latter two notifications. After several moments' hesitation, he swipes to unlock his phone, and reluctantly opens the text thread with shaking hands.

**[From: Shane] Okay, I understand if you don't want to talk to me, but we're not gonna do the skipping class thing, Ryan.**  
**[From: Shane] I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable on Saturday. It was extremely inappropriate to initiate anything. Can we talk?**

Guilt swoops through Ryan's stomach, and he bites at his lower lip, hesitating several more minutes as he tries to formulate a response.

**[To: Shane] u dont have to apologize bro im sorry i kind of freaked out**  
**[To: Shane] um do u wanna get a drink later or s/t**

Ryan tries to distract himself with dumb YouTube videos while he waits for a response, reminding himself multiple times that Shane is probably in a lecture right now. Still, he checks his phone approximately every three seconds until Shane finally texts back about forty-three minutes later. (Not that he was keeping track, or anything.)

**[From: Shane] Sure. Do you want to come to my place? That's not a come-on, it's just... Probably for the best if we don't meet in public. At least not close to campus.**

Ryan's heart is pounding, and he's not entirely sure why. They're just going to talk, right? Right. They'll probably both agree that it was just a drunken mistake, that they weren't thinking, that they'll just pretend nothing ever happened. That would be the responsible thing, the _adult_ thing to do.

**[To: Shane] ya that works. 2nite?**

**[From: Shane] Sounds good. By the way, I know you can spell, Ryan.**

Ryan snorts at his phone, and much to his dismay, he feels his face start to get pleasantly warm.

**[To: Shane] places 2 be things 2 do no time for grammar prof m**

Briefly, he wonders if mentioning the 'professor' thing will make things weird again. Then he groans and rolls over onto his side, annoyed with himself.

**[From: Shane] Places and things more important than going to class, apparently. Here's my address. Anytime after seven is fine, just let me know when you're on your way.**

Ryan checks the clock. He still has several hours, so after a few moments of debating what to do with the remaining time, he decides to distract himself by hitting the gym.

─

Ryan steadfastly refuses to allow himself to overthink his choice of outfit before he leaves the house. He picks a pair of ripped black jeans that Curly had once offhandedly mentioned make his ass look good, and a gray T-shirt that clings to his chest and arms in all the right places. After that, Ryan fusses with his hair for a good ten minutes. This is probably stupid, he thinks bitterly to himself. There's no way Shane is gonna want to continue whatever it was they'd started at the club. But ─ still. If there's even the slightest chance, Ryan's determined to jump at it.

He shoots Shane a text before taking an Uber to his house, trying (but mostly failing) not to make himself _too_ nervous. He can't help it, though; he has absolutely no idea what he's doing, no idea what to expect. All he knows is that he hasn't been able to think about anything but the way Shane's body had been pressed up against his in the club last weekend; the way his cock had strained against the fabric of his panties in the picture he'd sent Ryan afterward.

When the Uber comes to a stop outside Shane's apartment building, Ryan takes a moment to steel himself before getting out of the car. He pauses outside the building to tip his driver, just for something to do, then texts Shane that he's outside.

Rather than just buzzing Ryan into the building, Shane comes downstairs to let him in himself, like a weirdo. Ryan is annoyed with himself at the tug of fondness the gesture inspires.

"Hey, bro," Ryan greets, and Shane arches an unimpressed eyebrow, but returns his greeting (minus the 'bro', of course). He claps Ryan briefly on the shoulder before leading the way back upstairs. Ryan tries desperately to think of something to say, but instead his eyes just end up trained on Shane's ass as he follows him. It's not much of an ass, really, but it's nice anyway, he thinks. Unfortunately, Shane catches him staring once they make it to his apartment door, and Ryan immediately flushes. Shane just smirks, though, opening the door and holding it open for Ryan. That's... A good sign, right?

God, he hopes. He's already a little hard in his jeans, embarrassingly.

"Drink?" Shane asks, watching as Ryan takes off his sneakers and sets them neatly by the door.

"God, please," Ryan blurts, and Shane laughs. Something eases between them as Shane goes to retrieve them both a beer, then settles on the couch. For a moment, Ryan considers sitting in the chair, but ─ that would betray his discomfort, and might put Shane off, too. So he sits beside Shane on the couch, just a hair closer than is strictly necessary, and accepts the beer with a murmured thanks. He forces himself to maintain eye contact, embarrassed at the little thrill that goes through him when their fingers brush in the process of passing the bottle.

"So," Shane says after a moment, taking a sip of his beer. "I'm so s─"

"Please don't apologize," Ryan interrupts, sitting up a little straighter. "I didn't ─ I don't regret anything, Shane. It was good. Like, _really_ good. I know it's... It's not a good idea, like, morally, but I trust you to not treat me any differently in class. Or, like, if that's a problem, I can transfer out," he says, all in a rush, like he's afraid that if he gives Shane time to stop and think about it anymore, he'll send Ryan home and tell him they can't do this. Ryan will respect it if Shane decided this isn't worth the risk, he _will_ , but he just ─ God, he wants it so bad he can barely think.

"Ryan," Shane says gently, reaching out to rest a hand on Ryan's knee. Ryan hadn't even realized he'd been bouncing it until that moment. "Breathe, buddy." He's smiling, gentle, but Ryan can't read his tone or expression beyond that.

"I just." Ryan runs a hand through his hair, nervously. "I want to do this. With you. I ─ I've been thinking about you for weeks, okay? And I'm... I'm done lying to myself about what this is. I guess, uh. I guess I'm not straight. And I'm okay with that. I am."

"Ryan─" Shane begins again, sounding fondly exasperated, but Ryan plows on, undeterred.

"You're the first dude I've ever been into, sure, but like ─ I promise this isn't just. An experiment, or something, you know? I respect you. Really. And I've, uh, full disclosure, I've been daydreaming about having your cock in m─"

" _Jesus,_ Ryan." Shane is much more effective in cutting Ryan off this time, because he curls a hand around Ryan's jaw and leans in to kiss him firmly. Ryan sort of melts into the kiss, pressing closer eagerly and nearly forgetting about the beer in his hands. Shane doesn't let the kiss last all that long anyway, though, pulling back after only a few seconds.

"I'm comfortable with whatever you're comfortable with, Ryan," Shane says simply.

Ryan, flushed and panting, says, "Oh."

"Yeah," Shane laughs quietly, "Oh."

─

Fifteen minutes later, Ryan is straddling Shane's lap, their mostly-full beers sitting forgotten on the coffee table. Shane's shirt is half unbuttoned, and Ryan is trying to summon up the courage to take his own T-shirt off. They're both hard, and the feeling of Shane's hard cock pressing against Ryan's ass should be unsettling, but he's not really thinking about it much. Or, well ─ he _is_ , but he's not focused on how weird it is. He's more focused on how much he wants it in his mouth, even if he has no idea what the fuck he's doing. Ryan kisses along Shane's jaw and down his neck, only leaving gentle, teasing bites in his wake. He wishes he could leave his mark somewhere, though ─ maybe under Shane's shirt...

"I wanna get my mouth on you," Ryan finally brings himself to say, face burning.

"It is on me," Shane replies, teasing, and runs a long-fingered hand through Ryan's hair.

"You know what I mean, shut up," Ryan whines, squirming in Shane's lap a little until he hears the older man let out a quiet moan. He smirks against Shane's neck, triumphant.

"I ─ okay, alright, hang on," Shane says, tugging Ryan's hair very gently so Ryan will sit up straight. Ryan complies with the unspoken request, meeting Shane's gaze reluctantly.

"I just..." Shane traces his fingertips along Ryan's jaw, considering. "What have you done before?"

Ryan tenses immediately, though he attempts to maintain a nonchalant attitude. "I mean. You know. I've done stuff," he says vaguely, all but confirming Shane's suspicions.

"Ryan?" Shane asks, and his voice is gentler now. He leans back against the couch, tipping Ryan's head back in an attempt to get him to look Shane in the eyes. After a moment, Ryan reluctantly complies. "You... You've done this before, right?"

Ryan thinks, _Ah, fuck._

He quickly looks away again, leaning away from Shane's touch. "I already told you, you're the first dude I ever─" he begins, defensive.

"No, Ryan," Shane interrupts, still impossibly gentle, and humiliation settles into the pit of Ryan's stomach at the other's tone. "I mean with anyone."


	4. did you say i've got a lot to learn?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from amy winehouse's cover of teach me tonight. this chapter was absolute hell to write, but hopefully it's more fun to read.

"Oh, _Ryan,_ " Shane says when Ryan takes a beat too long to respond, and it sounds more fond than pitying or upset, but Ryan still feels ridiculous tears burn at the backs of his eyes.

"It's not a big deal," Ryan insists. "I ─ I just never... It never felt right." Part of him wants to squirm out of Shane's lap, to _run_ , but that feels too much like letting Shane win.

"Ry, it's alright," Shane says, reaching up to cup Ryan's jaw. Ridiculously, that's what tips Ryan over the edge, and the tears spill over his cheeks. Furious with himself, he leans away a little, wiping at his cheeks with his sleeves.

Shane frowns, looking concerned, and that just makes even more tears spill over. _Fuck._ "Ryan, I ─ it's alright. I didn't mean to upset you. It's just important for me to know what we're doing here," Shane tries. Ryan tries to nudge his hands away, still flustered and humiliated, but Shane doesn't let him. He wipes Ryan's tears away and gives him a kiss on the forehead that's so goddamn _tender_ that it actually helps to melt away some of Ryan's anxiety.

"... I've gone down on a girl before," Ryan mumbles after a moment or two, still not quite meeting Shane's eyes. "And gotten a handjob, like, three times. That's it." He sighs and tilts his head back to look up at the ceiling. At least the tears have stopped. "I didn't want you to treat me like a kid. I know what I'm doing. I just..."

"... Don't know what you're doing?" Shane supplies, but his tone is gently teasing. "Hey, c'mon, look at me. If you're sure about this, we'll just go slow. Yeah?" 

Ryan glowers at him for a moment, but the tension is easing out of him quickly. He scrubs a hand over his face and huffs out a quiet, embarrassed laugh, nodding a little. "Yeah, I ─ yeah. All the crying really didn't turn you off?" He shifts in Shane's lap slightly, and. Oh.

Shane flushes quickly, and Ryan raises an eyebrow at him, a smirk tugging at his lips. He shifts again, this time rocking down deliberately, and there's no mistaking just how hard Shane's cock is against him. "Maybe did the opposite, huh?"

"Not that," Shane insists quickly, sliding his hands up Ryan's thighs. "Just..."

"Oh my god," Ryan interrupts. "You're into it, aren't you? Me being a virgin?"

"I─" Shane begins weakly, but Ryan's merciless when he wants to be, and he continues as if he doesn't hear Shane speak.

"You _like_ the idea of being the ─ the first one to touch me like this. To teach me what to do. Don't you?" Ryan kisses Shane before he can respond, and _this_ much at least he knows he's good at. It's deep and filthy, and Ryan pushes his tongue into Shane's mouth insistently, taking control over the kiss easily. Shane just sort of lets him, muffling a low groan against Ryan's mouth when the younger man grinds down against him again.

Ryan's not sure what kind of horny demon possesses him to lean in and whisper against Shane's ear, "Looking forward to teaching me how to suck cock, Professor Madej?" but he's grateful for it, because the desperate noise Shane makes in response goes straight to Ryan's cock.

"You're a fucking menace," Shane says weakly, but it certainly doesn't seem like he's complaining. He slides his hands up under the hem of Ryan's shirt. And then, more authoritative: "Take this off, Bergara."

Ryan's breath hitches at the change in tone, and he scrambles to comply. _Yes, sir_ is on the tip of his tongue, but he can't quite force the words out, not yet. He tosses his shirt aside, and Shane wastes absolutely no time in leaning in to drag his tongue over one of Ryan's nipples. Ryan jerks, back arching forward into Shane's mouth, because his nipples are _sensitive_ , damn it. Shane smirks against his skin for a moment, raising one hand to rub and pinch gently at Ryan's other nipple while he continues to tease the other one with tongue and teeth. Ryan tangles a hand in Shane's hair, head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut. His breath is already coming in harsh pants, a quiet moan escaping him every so often. Ryan knows he's vocal when he gets off, much in the same way he's vocal when he works out, and he can only hope the noises he's making aren't embarrassing.

"You're so responsive," Shane says wonderingly, sliding a hand down between them to palm at Ryan through his jeans. Ryan's hips jerk forward and he groans, the hand in Shane's hair tightening slightly. "How do you feel about a demonstrative lesson? I'll show you what to do, and if you think you're ready afterward ─ you can show me what you learned."

Ryan nods fervently, and he leans in to kiss Shane hard for another minute or two before he's sliding out of Shane's lap to sit on the couch beside him instead. It should be impossible for someone with as much limb as Shane to sink gracefully to his knees on the floor the way he does, but he somehow makes it look easy; sexy, even. Shane finishes unbuttoning his shirt, and Ryan almost does a double take, because ─ there's a small barbel slid through each of Shane's nipples, and _how_ did Ryan not notice that sooner?

Shane smiles a little shyly when he sees where Ryan is looking. "College impulse decision that I was a little too fond of to ever let go," he admits, sliding his hands up Ryan's thighs. He undoes Ryan's belt and jeans, and Ryan lifts his hips to help him get them down and off. Shane leaves Ryan's boxers on for now, and he glances up at Ryan through his lashes as he scoots closer. Ryan just nods fervently, and Shane smiles again briefly before leaning in to mouth at the head of Ryan's cock through the thin fabric of his boxers.

"Shit," Ryan curses, fingers gripping tightly at the edge of the sofa cushion beneath him. Shane rubs his hands together for a few moments while he teases with just his mouth, and Ryan is about to ask what the hell he's doing before he realizes Shane must be trying to warm his hands before he puts them on Ryan.

"Such a gentleman," Ryan teases, lifting one hand to card it gently through Shane's hair.

"That's me," Shane replies, and then he's tugging down Ryan's boxers, leaving them around his ankles. He wraps those ─ indeed much warmer, now ─ long fingers around the base of Ryan's cock and leans in to drag his tongue along the frenulum.

" _Professor,_ " Ryan breathes before he can stop himself, and Shane glances up, amused and impossibly turned on.

"The frenulum here─" Shane traces his tongue along it again, eliciting a whimper from Ryan ─ "And the head, those are gonna be the most sensitive areas. Even if you can't take a lot of length in your mouth, you can get most guys off by using your mouth in the right areas, and stroking the rest of it." Shane strokes Ryan's cock slowly, taking the tip into his mouth and starting to bob his head a little. Ryan whines, doing his best not to squirm or close his eyes; the sight of Shane like this is something he wants to absorb every minute of.

Shane keeps up like this for a while, and it's sloppy; he lets drool slide down Ryan's length, uses it to slick his hand a little. It should be gross, Ryan thinks distantly, but it's really just absurdly hot. Shane pulls back to speak again, and Ryan bites back a whine of protest. "You're gonna want a lot of spit. Makes it easier on you, and makes it feel better for him," Shane says, and then he's ducking his head to take one of Ryan's balls in his mouth without much warning, and Ryan hits his head against the back of the couch hard enough that it hurts.

"Holy shit," Ryan breathes, and Shane pulls back a little to just lick, laughing quietly under his breath.

"Not everyone is especially into having their balls touched, but for some guys, using one of your hands to squeeze and rub a little can make a world of difference," Shane murmurs. He presses a feather-light kiss to the tip of Ryan's cock before taking it back into his mouth, something oddly adorable that makes Ryan's chest tight for a moment.

"You talking to me in your Teacher Voice shouldn't be so hot," Ryan manages, letting go of the edge of the couch cushion to gently push his fingers through Shane's hair. Shane looks up at him, pulling back just enough to speak again.

"I'm pretty sure you just have a teacher kink," Shane says, stroking Ryan's cock easily with one hand. "Now, you don't wanna push yourself too hard with how much you take in your mouth. It looks sexy in porn, but choking on dick is really... Generally unpleasant, at least when you're first starting out." Shane gives Ryan's cock little kitten licks, looking quite casual as he does. As though he's not blowing Ryan's whole entire mind right now. "I can take it pretty deep, but it takes practice. Suction is good, too, when you can manage it. But honestly, even the messiest beginner blowjob can be amazing ─ the biggest thing is just, like, watching your teeth."

"I feel like I should be taking notes," Ryan manages to mutter, and Shane laughs quietly, just a little puff of air over Ryan's cock.

"I'd never be able to look at you in class again," Shane says. "Might not be able to after this, regardless. Alright, that concludes the verbal lesson, I think. Time for the demonstration." He smirks at Ryan, a wicked glint in his eye, and Ryan's laugh quickly turns into a moan as Shane finally takes about half of his length into his mouth in one go.

"Showoff," Ryan accuses, voice strained. Shane shrugs one shoulder, unbothered, and hums something around Ryan, which makes him twitch and curse.

Shane starts to bob his head in careful, measured movements. He never takes more than he knows he can handle, and his free hand is pressed tight against Ryan's hip, making sure he doesn't buck up too much. He can _take_ a good face-fucking, sure, but that's a lesson for another time. For now, he takes a little more of Ryan's length into his mouth each time he lowers his head, one hand still working the lower portion of Ryan's dick with practiced jerks.

It only takes a handful of minutes for Ryan to approach the edge of orgasm, much to his dismay. The hand in Shane's hair smooths through it a few times, and he closes his eyes, tipping his head back against the couch. "Gonna come," Ryan manages to breathe, and feels more than he hears Shane's hum of acknowledgement. That's all the warning Ryan gets before Shane is swallowing him down to the base with relative ease, and Ryan's hand clenches in Shane's hair without his own permission as he comes down Shane's throat harder than he thinks he's ever come in his life.

Shane pulls back, coughing a little and looking utterly debauched. His eyes are wet, and a few stray tears cling to his eyelashes. He flashes Ryan a grin after a moment, licking his lips in a way that makes Ryan's dick give a valiant little twitch. Ryan surges forward to kiss him, not even thinking about where his mouth has just been; tasting himself on someone else's tongue is bizarre, but he finds that he sort of... Doesn't hate it.

"Sit, sit, sit," Ryan insists as soon as he pulls back, and Shane laughs breathlessly at his enthusiasm. He rises to his feet and settles on the couch again.

After hurriedly tugging his boxers back up, this time it's Ryan's turn to get on his knees, though he does so rather gracelessly compared to Shane. He scoots forward to kneel between Shane's legs, eyeing his crotch with some combination of determination and trepidation. The expression on his face must be ridiculously intent, because Shane laughs at it, reaching out to cup Ryan's jaw and smooth his thumb over his creased brow.

"You don't have to," Shane reminds Ryan quietly, expression fond. But he's hard in his jeans, Ryan can see the sizable bulge ─ that _can't_ be comfortable. Might even hurt, with how goddamn tight Shane's pants are. So Ryan just huffs, turning his head into the hand on his face and pressing a kiss to Shane's palm.

"Mama didn't raise a quitter," Ryan says, and Shane snorts. Ryan steels himself, then reaches out to undo Shane's fly. "C'mon, get out of these stupid tight pants."

"Bossy," Shane says dryly, but he lifts his hips and sort of shimmies out of them, leaving his black briefs on. With the heavier fabric of his jeans out of the way, Ryan gets a better look at what he's working with, and his eyebrows go up.

"That... Is not a beginner's dick," Ryan says after a moment, but he's already reaching out to stroke Shane through the fabric of his underwear. Shane's breath catches, and Ryan feels a strange sense of pride at having elicited that reaction. He wonders what it will take to undo Shane completely.

"Sorry," Shane says sheepishly. "Maybe I should have warned you. I just didn't want to sound..."

Ryan quirks an eyebrow. "Cocky?" he supplies with a grin, and successfully cuts off Shane's annoyed groan by leaning in to mouth at the head of his cock through his briefs.

"You're the worst," Shane says with a huff of laughter, brushing his fingers through Ryan's hair.

"Oh, am I?" Ryan challenges, tugging down Shane's briefs. Like this, with nothing in the way, Shane's cock is ─ sort of intimidating, honestly, but Ryan is determined to make this good. He has a competitive streak a mile wide, and it seems sex will be no different for him. "Go big or go home, I guess," he says, glancing up at Shane once before leaning in to lick a stripe along the frenulum.

"Fuck," Shane hisses out, hand leaving Ryan's hair to grip at the nearest thing within reach ─ a rather ugly throw pillow, as it turns out. Ryan smiles, genuinely pleased, and sets to work with clumsy lips and tongue. He's far from perfect, and he's still visibly nervous, but he's a quick learner; he gauges Shane's reaction each time he does something new, then adjusts his technique accordingly.

"Always so eager to please," Shane murmurs, and Ryan hums a quiet agreement against the side of his cock. Shane can't quite bite back a quiet moan at the almost ticklish sensation. 

Ryan spits into his hand and uses it to stroke the base of Shane's cock just how he was shown, concentrating on the head and the frenulum with his mouth. Eventually, he gathers up the nerve to take the head of Shane's cock into his mouth; he lets himself drool around it a little, using the spit to ease his way down.

"You were paying attention, huh?" Shane murmurs, cupping Ryan's jaw so he can feel the way his cock bumps against the inside of Ryan's cheek when he slowly starts to bob his head. "Good boy. You're doing so good, Ryan."

Ryan sort of whimpers around Shane's cock, pulling back with a wet noise and stroking him a little faster. "Hard to remember to breathe," he admits, and Shane takes a moment to process the words, distracted by the way Ryan's mouth is red and glistening with spit.

"You'll get better at it. Practice makes perfect," Shane replies with a little shrug, and smiles as Ryan lowers his head with a determined look on his face. It takes a few minutes, but Ryan works his way up to taking about half of Shane's length into his mouth at once. Shane murmurs little encouragements, reminds Ryan to take it easy and not push himself, but Ryan seems hell-bent on getting Shane's cock as far down his throat as he can without gagging. Ryan is an overachiever in all things, it seems; not just in class.

"Ryan, baby, I'm gonna cum," Shane breathes out eventually, and Ryan looks up at him, a determined glint in his eye. "You don't have to swallow, I can just─"

"Mm-mm," Ryan refuses, lips still around Shane's dick. Shane hisses through his teeth at the vibration, fingers clenching in Ryan's hair a little harder than he means to. Ryan doesn't seem to mind; he just hollows his cheeks around Shane and lowers his head as far as he can, not stopping until there are tears gathering in the corners of his eyes.

"Ryan, I'm─" Shane starts, but then he's coming, and Ryan somehow manages to swallow everything before pulling back and coughing a little.

"Jesus Christ," Shane manages, sitting forward a little to rub Ryan's back. He's still a little hazy from his orgasm, but he manages to look concerned for a moment until Ryan catches his breath.

"So," Ryan manages eventually, wiping at his watery eyes and giving Shane a grin, "What grade do I get, Professor M?"

Shane laughs and shakes his head a little, kissing Ryan's forehead. "I think you earned an A, Bergara."


	5. can't study thinkin' about you (and you know i always do)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once the two of them clean up and come down from the high of their orgasms, things don't get as awkward between them as Ryan had anticipated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from marlboro nights by lonely god.

Once the two of them clean up and come down from the high of their orgasms, things don't get as awkward between them as Ryan had anticipated.

Shane suggests putting something on Netflix as they're getting dressed, and then they just sort of... Cuddle on the couch, half watching _Silence of the Lambs_ and half engrossed in a discussion about Hannibal Lecter as a character.

Two beers apiece and a full movie later, Shane sort of shyly asks Ryan if he wants to stay for dinner. Ryan surprises himself by agreeing, internally blaming the beer ─ though he's not really feeling the effects of it, in all honesty. Shane makes pasta while Ryan hovers, sitting on the counter and occasionally cajoling Shane into making out with him for a few minutes in between stirring the steaming pots on the stove. It's domestic as all hell, and maybe it should freak Ryan out a little, but it's... It's comfortable, really. The newness of this hasn't faded, the slight awkward tinge to their interactions, but it feels _good_ in its newness.

Ryan sets Shane's little kitchen table, and Shane serves each of them a healthy serving of tortellini, garlic bread, and white wine. Ryan eyes the wine warily ─ he's never been much of a fan ─ but his eyes light up with surprise when he takes a sip and it's actually quite sweet.

"Witchcraft!" Ryan accuses, grinning at Shane over the rim of his glass. "How did you make it taste _good_?"

Shane laughs, chewing and swallowing his mouthful of pasta before answering. "It's Moscato. I figured you probably weren't big on the dry stuff."

Ryan hums. "I don't know that that means, but you're right," he replies, making Shane laugh again. He's quiet for a minute or two, then reaches one socked foot out under the table to trail it up Shane's calf. Shane looks up, questioning.

"Hey," Ryan says quietly, his smile a little shy. "Thank you for this. For dinner, and for ─ for being so chill about everything. I actually, uh, I had a really good time with you tonight."

Shane smiles, soft and open, and Ryan blushes, looking down at his plate. "So did I, Ryan," Shane replies demurely. "I ─ I just want to be sure we're both open and honest with each other, you know? I'm glad you told me you're a ─ that you'd never really done this before. I would've felt terrible if I didn't know to take this slow with you." Shane pauses, taking a drink of wine. Ryan watches him, nervous and hopeful. "If you... If you want to continue seeing each other, I'd like to. We should probably talk about some, you know, ground rules first, but. I'd like to."

Ryan grins. "Yeah, man, I ─ of course I want to. I mean, are you sure you don't want someone older, though? Or, like, more experienced? I'm kinda..." He gestures at himself in all his frat boy glory. "I like you a lot, don't get me wrong. I'm just afraid, uh..."

Shane laughs quietly, affectionately. He catches Ryan's foot between his own under the table, which makes Ryan's heart skip a beat, ridiculously. "Ryan, I like you for who you are. I don't mind your age or inexperience if you don't mind _my_ age or experience. I'd never use it against you. I know what I'm getting into ─ more or less, anyway."

Ryan doesn't realize until just that moment how much he's been worrying about the age difference being a problem. He nods a little, taking another bite of pasta and washing it down with a sip of wine. "Okay. I ─ it doesn't bother me that you're older, or anything. I'm, um, I just...? I kind of want this to be mutually exclusive. If we're doing this, if that's okay." He glances up, nervous, and Shane just smiles again.

"Sure," Shane agrees easily. "That's not a problem at all. But if this is going to be, uh, a relationship... We probably should keep that between us for now, yeah?" There's something like regret in his eyes, maybe even uncertainty, and Ryan rushes to reassure him.

"Of course! I mean, I'd never do anything to jeopardize your job, your career ─ it doesn't bother me, really. If we want to go out, we can drive further away, it's no big deal! Or we can just hang out here. I don't mind, really." Shane's still eyeing him with some uncertainty, so Ryan adds, "If I ever change my mind and realize I'm uncomfortable with this ─ and you have to promise to do the same, okay? ─ I promise I'll tell you. No harm, no foul. Right?"

At that, Shane finally seems to settle a little. He smiles and reaches across the table, and Ryan meets him halfway to lace their fingers together. It's mushy and dumb, but it makes Ryan grin all the same. "Alright," Shane agrees, nodding once. "I promise."

"Cool," Ryan says, and Shane laughs at him, but the sound is fond.

─ 

Ryan goes home after dinner, though they spend about ten minutes lazily making out against the front door before he actually leaves. It feels ─ good, to be with someone like this again. Ryan hasn't had a steady girlfriend in quite a while, and something about being with a man ─ being with his _professor_ ─ is different even from the experiences he's had in the past.

He texts Shane when he gets back to his place and gets a single heart emoji in response, which makes him grin at his phone. Apparently the combination of his slightly disheveled appearance and the grin on his face is enough to attract Eugene's attention, because he glances away from whatever he's watching on TV to look at Ryan. Deliberately, Eugene's gaze drops a little bit, to Ryan's rumpled shirt collar and the several blotchy red marks along the column of his throat. Eugene raises an eyebrow as Ryan goes pink.

"I─ uh─ "

"None of my business," Eugene shrugs, but before Ryan's shoulders can slump with relief, he adds, "Do I know her?"

Ryan swallows. Maybe he can't tell anyone _who_ he's seeing, but there is _something_ he can tell them. He shakes his head a little. "Nah, you don't know him," he says, all in a rush, part of him hoping Eugene won't notice the subtle pronoun correction.

Eugene blinks, clearly surprised, but he recovers quickly. "Oh," he says. He gives Ryan a rare, tight smile, looking back to the TV. "There's leftover pizza in the fridge if you're hungry," is apparently all Eugene has to say about that. If either of them were the hugging type, Ryan could hug him. Instead he just holds out a fist for Eugene to bump distractedly, heading to his room without providing any real response.

One down, literally everyone else in Ryan's life to go.

─ 

The next time Ryan has Shane's class, he very nearly causes a collision in the doorway when he sees what Shane is wearing.

"Watch _out,_ " someone hisses, and Ryan stumbles over an apology, drawn over to Shane's desk before he can stop himself. God, hiding this is gonna be a _lot_ harder than Ryan expected if Shane keeps doing this.

'This' meaning, apparently, having the audacity to be attractive in public spaces.

Shane looks up when Ryan approaches, quirking an eyebrow questioningly. His gaze flits around the room, but nobody seems to be paying them any mind. Shane's wearing lip gloss today, clear but shiny, and a dress shirt with lace sleeves and lace panels in the shoulders. Underneath, though. Underneath are two thin, bright yellow straps, barely visible through the lace. Ryan's not sure what kind of garment they're attached to, but he thinks he has a pretty good guess.

"Cool shirt, Professor S," Ryan manages after a beat too long. Shane smirks, though he's probably trying to make his smile look a lot more innocent than it is. "Where, uh, where'd you get it?"

Shane tilts his head a little, hair falling across his forehead with the motion. Ryan desperately wants to pull it. "ASOS," he replies, shrugging one shoulder. "Thanks, Bergara. Hey, could you stop by my office before you head home today? I had a few questions about the last thing you turned in."

"Sure thing," Ryan agrees easily, breath catching in his throat near the tail end of the sentence. "I'll stop by around four?"

"Sure," Shane echoes, and smiles again before returning his gaze to his laptop. Ryan rushes to his seat, hopefully before anyone can notice he's sporting a painfully embarrassing semi.

─ 

By the time four o'clock rolls around, Ryan is all but fleeing his last lecture, book bag held as surreptitiously as possible in front of his crotch as he walks. It's _ridiculous_ to be so turned on by the anticipation, he thinks faintly, but he can't help it. He can't stop thinking about what Shane might have on under that stupid lacy shirt.

Ryan knocks on Shane's office door a little fervently once he reaches it; Shane responds with a casual, "Come in," and Ryan doesn't have to be told twice.

Shane is sitting behind his desk looking over a stack of papers when Ryan comes in, and Ryan hesitates only half a second before locking the door behind him. He sits across from Shane in one of the worn, soft armchairs Shane keeps there. Shane doesn't say anything right away, and Ryan does his best not to squirm; he fails, of course, quite spectacularly.

"Relax, Ryan," Shane laughs after half a minute or so, finally looking up. "We don't have to do anything here. We can go─ "

"No!" Ryan interrupts quickly, then flushes at his own eagerness. "I mean ─ no, I. I want to. Here. Here _especially_."

Shane arches an eyebrow, setting aside the stack of papers ─ the entire surface of his desk is suspiciously clear, actually, and a rush of arousal floods straight to Ryan's dick the moment he notices. "Yeah?" he asks softly. "You've thought about it?"

"Only every fucking night since I started your stupid class," Ryan blurts, and Shane laughs.

"Hey, my class isn't stupid," Shane protests mildly. He wheels his chair back a little, making just enough space for Ryan in front of him. He nods to the desk; Ryan doesn't need to be told twice. He gets up, sliding into the space between Shane's knees and sitting on the edge of the desk. Shane rolls forward a little again, blocking him in. It's so similar to so many of Ryan's dreams and fantasies that he almost forgets how to breathe for a moment.

"Tell me what you think about," Shane says, and though his tone is gentle, it's an unmistakable order.

Ryan swallows, a little thrill going through him. "The first couple times we just made out, I guess. It was ─ it was stupid. I guess I've seen too much porn."

Shane laughs softly, sliding a hand up Ryan's thigh. "Let me guess. Got a bad grade on your essay that you needed fixed?" he asks wryly.

Ryan makes a face at the teasing, but his legs fall further apart under Shane's touch anyway. "Shut up. I didn't _choose_ the dream," he huffs. "Anyway, it got... A little more heated each time. Then..." Shane stands and leans in, starting to trail kisses up Ryan's throat. Ryan's breath catches mid-sentence, and he tilts his head to grant Shane better access. "Then I had a dream I was, uh. On my knees, kind of... Under your desk. Sucked you off like that."

One of Shane's hands slides up further, and he palms at Ryan through his jeans. Ryan groans, hips immediately canting up of their own accord. "I have a question," Shane says casually, and Ryan makes what he hopes is an inquisitive noise. Shane continues, "Have you ever fingered yourself?"

Ryan hesitates a moment before replying. "Not... Not until, like, three days ago," he admits. Shane smiles against his neck. "Thought about you doing it, though. You, uh... You look like you have good fingers for it."

"Oh, I do," Shane responds, using said fingers to deftly undo the fly of Ryan's jeans. "If I do say so myself. I, uh ─ not to assume anything, but... If it ever gets to that point, I'm cool with either position. Just so you know."

Ryan nudges Shane back a little so he can surge up and kiss him, and Shane palms at Ryan through the fabric of his boxer briefs as he licks into his mouth, teeth catching gently at Ryan's lower lip just to tease. When they break apart, Ryan is panting a little, pupils blown wide.

"Please tell me you have lube," Ryan blurts. "'Cause I really, _really_ want you to finger me on your desk. Like. Right now."

"Yeah?" Shane steps back for just a moment, bending to retrieve something from the unassuming brown satchel on the floor beside his desk. It's an unopened bottle of lube, which he hands to Ryan before standing up straight again.

Shane steps back into Ryan's space afterward, but he doesn't put his hands back on Ryan right away. Rather, he starts to undo the buttons on his shirt, and Ryan watches with rapt attention as the fabric parts to reveal whatever is underneath.

Shane's bralette is little more than a scrap of yellow lace across his chest, and Ryan makes a quiet noise as Shane shrugs out of his shirt and tosses it aside. He can see Shane's nipple piercings through the lace, and on impulse, he leans forward to drag his tongue over one. Shane lets out a startled, shuddering groan, fingers of one hand winding into Ryan's hair.

"You like those, huh?" Shane teases.

"I like _you_ ," Ryan replies, smoothing a hand up Shane's belly and chest to find the other nipple and tweak it through the bra. Shane hums quietly, pleased, and arches forward against Ryan's fingers and mouth.

"I like you, too," Shane replies, sounding fond, and Ryan's heart swells. He pulls back eventually, licking his lips as he meets Shane's eyes.

"How do you want me?" Ryan asks. Shane considers that for a moment, then steps back a little.

"As much as I wanna see your pretty face... I'll have you bend over the desk, I think," Shane says. Ryan's breath catches, and Shane smiles as he watches him rush to comply.

Shane presses up against Ryan from behind, giving his hips a brief squeeze. He tugs down Ryan's jeans and underwear slowly, stroking over the skin he exposes along the way with one cool hand. Ryan suddenly, desperately wants Shane to spank him ─ and he has no fucking idea where _that_ came from.

He represses it, for now; figures he'll bring it up some other time, when this isn't quite so new. Instead, Ryan squirms, grabbing the lube again and holding it back toward Shane. Shane leaves Ryan's jeans and underwear bunched under the curve of his ass and takes the bottle. Ryan hears a rustle as Shane takes off the plastic wrapping around the top, then a click as he opens the cap.

"You still good, baby?" Shane murmurs, and Ryan nods, pressing his face against his forearm. A moment later, he feels Shane's slick fingers brush over his hole. His hips twitch away instinctively, and he huffs out a little laugh against the surface of the desk. Ryan barely manages to stay still as Shane teases around his rim, and just when he's getting ready to complain, to tell Shane to get a move on ─ well. Shane starts to press one finger in, nice and slow. Ryan's breath comes out in a shudder.

"Shane," Ryan breathes, already starting to rock back against his hand, as if he can't help it. Shane hums vaguely, thrusting the finger in and out a few times before slowly starting to add a second one alongside it. His fingers are long, but not too thick; the stretch isn't uncomfortable or even particularly _strange_ , considering Ryan's probably spent hours over the last couple of days with his own fingers inside of himself.

"You had a prostate orgasm yet?" Shane asks, curious, and Ryan shakes his head a little. Shane curls his fingers the next time he presses in, and Ryan gasps as Shane finds his prostate, massaging it with the pads of his fingers.

" _Shane,_ " Ryan hisses again, already sounding wrecked. Shane smooths his free hand up Ryan's side, keeping steady pressure on Ryan's prostate while Ryan rocks steadily back against him. "It's ─ it's so _much,_ " Ryan chokes out. "I don't ─ d'you think I could cum just... Without..."

"Without touching your dick again?" Shane finishes for him, taking pity, and Ryan nods fervently. Shane smiles, pressing a little more firmly against Ryan's prostate. Ryan's hands scrabble at the edge of the desk, forehead pressed against the surface of it. "You can," Shane says. "Wanna try?"

"Please," Ryan breathes, moving his hips in little circular motions back against Shane's hand. Shane keeps up a steady pace of massaging, revelling in the groans and whines Ryan lets slip every few seconds. It doesn't take long before Ryan gets close; he clenches around Shane's fingers and _writhes_ , knuckles white where he's still grabbing the edge of the desk.

"Gonna ─ fuck, that's so ─ it's so _much_ ," Ryan half-sobs. "Shane, 'm gonna─ " And he cuts off with a wordless cry, shivering and leaking all over as he comes. Shane keeps up the pressure for a few seconds longer before gently pulling out, reaching for the nearby tissue box to wipe the lube from his fingers.

Ryan turns around after a few seconds of panting, reaching up to yank Shane down into a kiss. His cock is hard and flushed, and he grabs Shane by the hips, yanking him forward to grind against the front of his pants. Shane works his hands between them to undo his fly, and Ryan barely has time to appreciate the yellow panties that match Shane's bralette before Shane is pushing them out of the way.

Shane lines their cocks up with some difficulty ─ he sort of has to hunch over Ryan, and Ryan has to sit on the edge of the desk ─ and wraps one big hand around both of them, making Ryan moan against his mouth. He breaks the kiss to trail kisses along Shane's shoulder and chest instead, both hands finding their way into Shane's hair. Shane uses his free hand to drizzle a little lube onto his palm, easing the slide as he jerks them both off. Ryan's head is still swimming from the first orgasm, and everything borders on _too much_ ─ but it's good, and he breathes as much against Shane's skin as he feels himself draw close to coming again.

Ryan's second orgasm washes over him rather abruptly, and he bites down on Shane's shoulder as he comes to muffle his moan ─ there are still people in the building other than them, after all, it's not _that_ late in the day. Shane pulls back after a few seconds, just as Ryan is starting to feel a little oversensitive. Ryan is about to offer to jerk Shane off, himself, but before he can, Shane is coming over his own hand and wrist with a quiet noise that's almost a whimper.

"God, you're so hot," Ryan breathes, pressing an apologetic kiss to the bruise he'd unwittingly sucked into Shane's shoulder. "Where did you even come from?"

"Schaumberg," Shane mumbles a beat late, and they both laugh for a moment, just sort of resting together while they catch their breath. Eventually, though, Shane grabs for tissues and hand sanitizer, cleaning them both up as best as he can before attempting to make himself as presentable as possible.

Ryan follows suit, pulling his underwear and pants back up and making a face at how loose and open he still feels. Shane must recognize the look on his face, because he laughs at him, cupping Ryan's cheek and giving him a brief, sweet kiss. Ryan returns it while it lasts and tries not to look too terribly fond when Shane pulls back.

"Come over for dinner?" Shane asks, smoothing down Ryan's shirt. "You can, uh... If you want..." he trails off, uncharacteristically flustered. Ryan raises an eyebrow, confused for a moment, until his brain catches up with him.

"You asking me to finger you, Professor M?" Ryan grins, and Shane rolls his eyes, but he nods. "I'd be honored. I'm gonna run home and shower first, though."

"Mmkay," Shane murmurs, and he kisses Ryan on the temple before stepping back. It's a casual, affectionate gesture, and something about it sort of gives Ryan butterflies. "Just let me know when you're on your way. We can decide what to order when you get to my place."

Shane gives Ryan a smile as he heads out the door, and Ryan feels his stomach flip again. He returns the smile, heart beating fast. As he heads back to his dorm room, he tries to ignore the distinct impression that he's already well on his way to falling for Shane Madej.


End file.
